


Royal Obligation

by imaginary_golux



Series: Prince Finn [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Miscommunication, Prince!Finn, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8555791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: In which Poe is sure that Prince Finn needs to marry someone else for royal reasons, and Finn spends some time convincing Poe otherwise.
Genesis of this fic was from all the lovely commenters on the first fic in this series, and beta was by the Best of all possible Beloveds, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	

The thing is, Poe _understands_ that Finn has obligations now to more than the Resistance. Finn’s a prince, and, being Finn, has thrown himself into his new responsibilities with a vengeance. He’s spending all day, every day, closeted with his parents or the counselors or the experts on this or that matter, trying to learn in weeks what he should have spent a lifetime learning, all the business of this planet and its people. He comes to bed exhausted most days, too tired to do anything but kiss Poe warm and sweet before rolling over and passing out in a limp heap, his head pillowed on Poe’s shoulder.

Poe himself has more duties than he expected, too. When Finn explained to his parents what the First Order had done to him, they agreed instantly that their planet should side with the Resistance against those who had harmed their son, and Poe has become Resistance liaison to a planet with a really startling number of very useful resources. He’s been training new pilots and meeting with suppliers for weapons and food and bacta and all the myriad other things an army at war so desperately needs, meeting with the heads of hospitals to arrange for wounded Resistance fighters to be routed here for better care than they can get in the makeshift bases the Resistance operates out of, meeting with General Organa over long-distance comms to arrange everything to the joint satisfaction of the Resistance and Finn’s new people.

(Finn Adenrele, and isn’t that a lovely name, the one he was born with, and doesn’t it give Poe a warm feeling deep in his chest that even with that name waiting for him like the royal mantle Finn wears so well, even with this place and these people and this _family_ waiting for him, Finn still keeps the name Poe gave him, wears it as proudly as the royal one he was born to.)

But. One of the obligations Finn has, Poe knows, as a prince, as the king-to-be, is to marry well. To marry a _woman_ , more to the point, so that the dynasty can continue. And though Poe has many good qualities, being female is not among them. Not that he _wouldn’t_ be a woman, if he could, if it meant that he could keep Finn forever - kriff, if some ancient Jedi master were to appear before Poe this instant and offer him an instant sex-change, all organs guaranteed in working order, fertility as desired, right now Poe would kriffing _jump_ at the chance. Anything to keep from having to stand here, draped in silk the shade of royal blue which has become Finn’s official color these last few months, watching Finn dance with a beautiful young woman from a neighboring star system who would be an absolutely, unquestionably perfect wife for him. She’s young, she’s the princess of a wealthy star nation, she’s beautiful and charming and clearly - like all sensible people - half in love with Finn already, after barely an hour spent in his presence. (Stars, Poe was half in love with him after barely ten minutes in his presence, but there were some extenuating circumstances, like Finn saving his kriffing _life_ at the time.)

And the thing is, Poe would _like_ to think that he has enough pride that when Finn inevitably marries this young woman, or another like her, some beautiful charming princess who comes with wealth and power and a valuable alliance, Poe will leave, that he will have the self-discipline to go back to Yavin (if the war is over by then) and rebuild his life there. But he knows better. He will stay here, draped in royal blue silk, until Finn tires of him, and if Finn never tires of him - if Finn likes having a wife and a consort both, likes having Poe waiting for him in that wide soft bed in which they have spent so many nights together already - well, Poe will stay here forever, content with whatever affection is left over after wife and children and parents and subjects have all gotten their share, content to have one night in five - in ten - one night a _month_ so long as he can still be Finn’s.

His father warned him about this, years ago. “Be careful with your heart,” he’d said, the day Poe went off to the Academy to learn to be a pilot, to learn to be as good as his mother was. “We Damerons, we do damn foolish things when we’re in love.”

Poe had promised to be careful, and he’d been good, so good, he’d had fun where he found it but he’d never _fallen_ the way he did for Finn. And so of course when he finally did fall...well, Finn the ex-Stormtrooper now Resistance fighter was someone Poe might have someday brought home to his father, might someday have built a life with on Yavin 4, might someday have married and kept for all his days. Prince Adenrele of Ijoba Igboya,* though - that’s a different problem. What has Poe got to offer a prince, beyond his endless adoration? And princes can get _that_ anywhere they please.

(Though - Poe doesn’t love Finn _because_ Finn is a prince. He loves Finn for his courage, for his compassion, for his willingness to step out into a universe he’s never seen before and look for the wonders in it, for the way he can face his own fear and acknowledge it and work through it and come out stronger on the other side, for his glorious strategic mind, for the beauty of his soul and the strength of his will, for his selflessness and his great open heart and the sheer glory that is _Finn_.)

Poe watches Finn spin the beautiful young princess around the dance floor and knows that he is thoroughly and irrevocably _screwed_.

*

Poe’s waiting for Finn at the end of the night, when Finn finally bows the princess back to her escort and makes his way out of the hall. Finn looks _exhausted_ , Poe thinks worriedly as Finn steps out into the corridor where Poe’s waiting, but then Finn sees Poe and his whole face lights up, joy and lust and adoration warring for pride of place in his expression.

“Hey,” he says, and takes Poe’s hand as they head down the corridor together. Poe threads his fingers between Finn’s and holds on tightly. Finn’s hands are broad and warm and clever, and Poe will never get tired of them.

“Hey, yourself,” he says, grinning at Finn. “You looked good out there.”

Finn chuckles. “Thank the tailors,” he says. “You’d think they could manage with fewer fittings, though.” He looks Poe up and down, and his grin gets wider and a little filthier. “ _You_ look good.”

“Yeah?” Poe says, and lets go of Finn’s hand long enough to do a little spin. The royal tailors really like putting Poe in silk, for some reason - though at least tonight’s outfit isn’t _nearly_ as scandalous as the one they put him in months ago, that ended up being the catalyst for Poe and Finn _finally_ getting together - and Poe kind of likes the way it looks, honestly, the heavy silk tunic over wide-legged trousers that go _swish_ with every step. The tunic is covered with embroidery, gold against blue, and Poe thinks it looks pretty elegant, honestly. He’s getting used to dressing like this. Which is good, if Finn wants to keep him - if he’s going to be wearing royal blue silks for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” Finn says, catching Poe’s hand again. “You were the most beautiful person in that whole ballroom. I had to keep telling myself not to stare at you, it’d be rude.”

Poe blinks in surprise. “I didn’t even _bother_ not staring at you,” he admits. “And I’m gonna have to argue about who was the most beautiful person there, buddy, because you kriffing _glow_.” Finn chuckles, and Poe adds, carefully, “She was pretty lovely too - the princess, I mean.”

Finn shrugs. “She’s a very nice person, and very pretty,” he agrees. “But she’s not _you_.”

Poe feels a little like he’s walking through a conversational minefield. “No, she’s not,” he says slowly. “But - um - I know - I know you’re going to need to marry someday. She seems nice.”

Finn stops dead, tugging at Poe’s hand until Poe turns to look at him. Finn’s frowning. “I thought -” he says, and then shakes his head and tugs at Poe’s hand again, moving quickly through the corridors to his suite of rooms. Poe trails behind, confused.

When they get into Finn’s rooms, though, Finn pushes Poe up against the door and kisses him almost desperately, hungry and sweet and fierce, until Poe is shivering and clutching at Finn’s shoulders to stay upright. Kriff, but Finn learns fast - he’s long since figured out every weak spot Poe has, every way to make Poe’s knees give out and his mind go white with pleasure.

“Poe,” Finn says finally, pulling away, “ _listen to me_.”

“I’m listening,” Poe says, a little faintly, his lips still tingling from that fierce, wonderful kiss.

“I talked to my parents _months_ ago,” Finn says softly. “I told them I’d never marry anyone but you. They asked me to wait a while - a year, they said, for people to see that I’ve actually looked at other options - and then they’ll help me find a good heir to adopt and they’ll give us their blessing. If - if you _want_ to marry me. But I thought you knew. I don’t want anyone but you, Poe. No one else. _Ever_.”

“Oh,” says Poe, wonderingly. “I - oh.” He blinks, and takes a moment to run through half a dozen conversations they’ve had over the last few months that _Poe_ had thought were simple lovers’ exaggerations, the sort of oaths everyone swears and no one means in bed, but clearly they were _not_ , clearly they were _more_ , Finn has talked to his parents about this, has won their agreement, Finn wants to -

“Of course I’ll marry you,” Poe says, feeling light enough to fly without a ship. “Of _course_ I will, Finn, you’re - you’re it for me, I don’t ever want anyone else, I don’t ever want to _be_ anywhere else but by your side -” and Finn is kissing him again, hard and sweet and _perfect_ , and Poe wraps his arms around Finn’s broad shoulders and gets one leg up around Finn’s waist and kisses back just as hungrily as he can.

“I have to keep - entertaining princesses,” Finn says hoarsely when they break apart to pant harsh breaths into the warm air between them. “I have to - a year, I promised - and I want to defeat the First Order before we marry - I want my wedding gift to you to be _peace_ -” Poe makes a sound like he’s just been punched, feels his heart clench in his chest at the sheer _love_ that runs through him - “but there will never be anyone but you in my bed, in my heart, I promise, I _swear_ it, never anyone but you, Poe.”

Poe’s head is reeling and his knees are weak and - “Take me to bed, Finn,” he says. “Take me to bed, _please_. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I want to know that down to my _bones_ , I want to feel you in me so deep I’ll never forget, I want - I want to make love to you without thinking ‘This might be the last time before he chooses someone else.’ Please?”

“Kriff,” says Finn, and scoops Poe’s other leg up around his waist, and lifts Poe easily - so easily, kriff, that’s never going to be less than incredibly arousing - and carries him with swift steps into the bedroom, putting him down gently on the edge of the bed and tugging the embroidered tunic off over Poe’s head before Poe’s even got his legs unwound from Finn’s waist.

“I am not going to be the only naked man in this bed,” Poe says, even as he’s scrambling out of his pants and undershorts, and Finn gives him a brief, blazingly hot glance and then starts stripping off his royal robes with Stormtrooper efficiency, leaving them draped over a chair as he reveals acres of beautiful skin, the scars on his back and shoulder not flaws but ornaments, testaments to his courage and determination.

And then they’re both naked, and Finn pounces, and they’re tumbling together back into the center of the absurdly large bed, rolling over and over on the sinfully soft blanket until, for once, Poe gains the upper hand - Finn _lets_ him gain the upper hand, there’s no actual contest between them when it comes to wrestling - and finds himself straddling Finn, hands braced on Finn’s shoulders, Finn’s hands warm and gentle on his back.

“Gotcha,” Poe says breathlessly, and Finn laughs aloud, delighted and joyful.

“Yeah,” he says. “You do. Always.”

“ _Kriff_ ,” Poe says, and leans over, stretching as far as he can go, to reach for the jar of lube they keep on the bedside table. Finn braces his hands on Poe’s waist, supports Poe’s weight easily, and Poe gives him a kiss for that, one kiss that turns into two that turns into ten that turns into Poe sprawled out atop Finn, rutting against him half-mindlessly, lips bruised and tender from kissing, whimpering as Finn’s hands stroke firm and gentle down his spine, a little lower each time, in a tease that makes Poe want to shake apart with pleasure.

The first brush of Finn’s fingers against Poe’s hole is electrifying, enough to distract Poe even from the endless pleasure of kissing Finn, and he gets himself braced up on his elbows so he can rock back against Finn’s teasing fingers and says, “Please, love,” and Finn _smirks_ , beautiful and proud, and presses a little more firmly before he takes his hand away to reach for the lube.

Finn has gotten good at this, these last few months. He’s always been dextrous, always been a quick learner, and he put those skills to work on learning how to make Poe come _apart_ as soon as they became lovers. Poe keeps himself braced and lets his head fall onto Finn’s chest and concentrates on breathing and _not coming_ as Finn’s fingers stroke teasingly over his hole until Poe’s breath is coming in desperate whines between clenched teeth and then finally, _finally_ sinks one blunt finger slow and inexorable into Poe. Poe shakes, and the bitten-off moan that falls from his mouth is embarrassingly loud.

“Should never have taught you to _tease_ ,” he gasps out, as Finn’s finger finds his prostate unerringly.

“But you did,” Finn says, sounding deeply amused, and oh, that’s _two_ fingers, and Poe arches his back to get them deeper, shivers beneath Finn’s warm hand on his hip. “Taught me how to make you beg, how to make you moan, how to make you swear -” Poe _does_ moan, helplessly, as Finn twists his fingers to spread Poe wider. “Taught me how to make you feel so good,” Finn says, softly, affection and lust clear in his voice, and that is the straw that breaks the bantha’s back; Poe pushes himself up onto his knees, poised above Finn with one hand braced on Finn’s broad chest, and reaches down between them to guide Finn’s lovely, perfect cock to where Poe so desperately wants it. Finn pulls his fingers out and away, braces both hands on Poe’s waist and holds him steady as Poe sinks down, slow and easy, in one long steady stroke which ends with Finn buried in him to the hilt and Poe shaking with need and pleasure, head back and eyes closed and moans shivering from his throat to echo off the bedroom walls.

“Dearest,” Poe says, when he can find words - they come out hoarse and desperate but clear, and that is all that matters - “Dearest, _fuck_ me.”

“Yes,” Finn says, and braces his feet against the bed, and tightens his hands on Poe’s hips, and thrusts up into Poe slow and hard and steady. Poe cries out softly, gets his knees under him properly and starts to move in time with Finn’s slow thrusts, and Finn shifts a little beneath him and gets the angle _exactly_ right, hitting Poe’s prostate perfectly, and Poe kind of loses track of time a little. He’s honestly not sure how long they move together, Finn’s hands tight on his hips and Finn’s cock so deep inside him, Finn’s beautiful face made even lovelier in ecstasy, before Finn says, almost pleading, “Come for me, love,” and Poe, helpless in the face of such adoration, does, moaning his pleasure aloud, and slumps down against Finn’s chest as Finn thrusts up sharply and goes still, spilling into Poe with a long low groan of completion.

“Mine,” Finn says, a few minutes later, when they’ve both caught their breaths. “Mine, forever.”

“Yours,” Poe agrees happily, wriggling a little to find a more comfortable sprawl. “Yours, forever, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Google Translate’s best guess for the phrase “kingdom of courage” in Yoruba
> 
> I am on tumblr as imaginarygolux, and would love to say hi!


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